


The Path Is Neither Straight Nor Easy

by jaskiersvalley (connorssock)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Kaer Morhen, M/M, One Big Happy Family, Witcher Wolf Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23198239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorssock/pseuds/jaskiersvalley
Summary: Sometimes a witcher brought a companion back to Kaer Morhen for the winter. None before had ever quite been like Jaskier.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 24
Kudos: 1304





	The Path Is Neither Straight Nor Easy

Winter was tough on everyone. But witchers had the benefit of being able to return back to Kaer Morhen if they so wished. Lambert, for one, rather liked that, the familiarity and the roaring fires along with the quiet company of those he grew up with, who didn’t stare at him like he was some kind of freak or dog shit stuck to the sole of a shoe. To return to a place he could almost call home and not have to worry for a couple of months. The winter was perhaps the easiest time for a witcher.

It wasn’t even all that unusual for one or the other of the witchers to bring back a companion. Their beds tended to get cold and Lambert wouldn’t begrudge his brothers such a small comfort. Usually, companions were on the shy side of personalities, sticking close to their witcher and keeping out of the way of the others. They were under no illusions of their purpose there and nobody took offence. If someone a witcher rescued wanted to repay the help in such a way, or needed an out for a while and found solace alongside a witcher, that was fine.

So when Lambert returned to Kaer Morhen, he was not expecting to walk through the doors and hear song. Loud, unabashedly merry and filthy words half hollered half sung along with some lute accompaniment. He found Eskel in the stables and shot him a questioning look.

“Geralt. He’s got a bard.”

Outrageous. Of all the people, Geralt did not seem like the type to have what was the embodiment of raunchy sunshine. If Lambert had assumed things would get more settled with time, he was very very wrong.

The halls of Kaer Morhen echoed with song and chatter, questions, and Geralt’s typical gruff “hm” that was his standard reply. It didn’t discourage Jaskier at all. And he didn’t keep to himself like regular companions. No, he wasn’t there for Geralt and Geralt only. Some days Lambert found him chattering to Vesemir, picking his brains about the history of witchers, an eager audience for stories of old. But Jaskier also pestered Eskel, helped him in the stables, brushed down the horses while singing to them. Sometimes they were fully fledged ballads but other times nonsense about who the prettiest horse was and who enjoyed their carrots and sugar cube treats.

Even Lambert himself wasn’t forgotten. Jaskier sought him out in the armoury, while Lambert sharpened and imbued swords with oil, Jaskier brought his lute and tended to that. It was oddly fitting, a witcher’s weapons were his swords, a bard’s his lute. The conversation was easy, Jaskier was free with his words and stories, entertaining Lambert as they worked.

Everybody took kindly to Jaskier, Lambert could only marvel how he wormed his way into hearts so easily. But as much as he was friendly, he made it abundantly clear that his heart and body belonged to only one. The question that kept the witchers occupied though was whether Geralt actually knew that. It wasn’t a matter of Jaskier not telling him. No, Jaskier freely volunteered that information and repeatedly. But sometimes the other witchers doubted Geralt actually believed it.

All through winter Jaskier flitted about Kaer Morhen as if he had been there his whole life. He befriended the witchers, endeared himself to them. He chided them all equally when he felt they were not doing themselves justice, be it muttering about not getting dinner just right or messing up while training. But as Jaskier groused, his words warmly reassured them that no, they were doing just fine. That it was okay to not be perfect all the time, especially when home and amongst family. It was something all the witchers heard some iteration of. And they all had a similar reaction to. A moment of mind going softly blank and then realising several things at once.

Firstly, that Jaskier wasn’t holding them to some unobtainable standard. Nobody within the walls of Kaer Morhen was. That while yes, they needed to keep in shape, it was okay to just be themselves for a bit rather than living up to the image the outside world demanded.

Secondly, and nobody could say if this was more important or not, Jaskier so seamlessly included himself in the description of family. And nobody could disagree with him. While Cintra may have had their lion cub in the form of Ciri, the wolf school of witchers had been adopted by their very own cub. Though they all quietly agreed Jaskier was more Chamrosh than wolf cub. Though he had the loyalty and fire of a wolf, he also had the freedom and ferocity of an eagle, sod the gentle lark business.

Like all things, winter ended and the witchers were getting itchy feet. They wanted to get out, return to their duties. As much as they loved the downtime of winter, there was such a thing as too much of a good thing. But there was time before they all set out, a few more days. Unless your name was Geralt, in which case, you were ready to go right that moment.

“Get back here!” Jaskier was marching after Geralt, trying to tug things off him to stop him from being unbelievably stupid and leaving so close to night. It had been something of a spectacle, Geralt trying to leave for the last week but Jaskier was having none of it.

The other witchers were no longer subtle about watching this whole thing play out. So far Jaskier had resorted to clinging to Geralt like a limpet, unable to be shaken off until Geralt promised to not leave that night. He had also followed Geralt around, singing obnoxious songs that got more and more lewd - the witchers learned a few new things about their brother’s bedroom preferences that night. Of course, it was memorable when, the following night, Jaskier simply started stripping by the door, uncaring of the audience. It seemed that sex worked as a great tool to distracting Geralt. But this night, he seemed even more intent on leaving.

“You don’t understand. I must follow The Path,” Geralt grumbled, tugging his swords from Jaskier’s grip.

“Well, tonight I _am_ The Path and you’re following me.”

That drew a snort from Eskel and he ducked around the doorway to snicker in peace. Not that it stopped Geralt and Jaskier from arguing in the slightest. At least, not until Vesemir stepped in.

“The Path is long and winding. It would be easy if it was straight.” As always, his words were meant to be thought upon, to gain more understanding.

It was Lambert who ruined the effect with a snide “there’s nothing straight about tonight’s Path.” He got a look from Jaskier that turned into a pleased nod.

“Nor easy. So get your sorry behind up those stairs and into the bedroom, Geralt. Now.”

There was something magical about watching Geralt, the star pupil of Kaer Morhen, the one who was put through the mutations twice because he was so special, bow to the whims of his bard at long last.

They didn’t leave until four days later, when everyone else was leaving too, all setting out, following the call of their own Path. But there was one thing for certain. Wherever they were led over the course of the following year, come winter, they would all be back at Kaer Morhen.

**Author's Note:**

> Regular short stories over on tumblr - @jaskiersvalley


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